


Yes, Sir

by penlex



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Hair Pulling, He's not, Mild Painplay, Military Fetish, Military Ranks, Military Uniforms, Nipple Play, No Aftercare, Oblivious Sub is Oblivious, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Power Play, Roy thinks he's all that, Teasing, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy thinks he's going to make Olivier his next conquest. She corrects his misconception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Sir

 

He’s been after her since the day they met. He’d been a newly-made Major and, at the time, the youngest State Alchemist ever. She’d been a Colonel going on Brigadier General.

She intimidated him, but oh God in all the right ways.

He’d stayed away from her for a while, mostly out of fear of her brother (that was silly on his part, as she was in fact much more of a danger to him). He hadn’t once mentioned so much as coffee before he’d gotten to know the Major better.

And then he’d asked about her.

“What is your sister like anyway, Major? I haven’t really seen much of her…” Roy let his sentence trail off at the look on Alex’s face, a sort of wry, ironic amusement. “What’s so funny?”

Alex shook his head, and proclaimed boomingly (as he did most things, Roy had quickly discovered), “Stop while you’re ahead, Roy – ”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“ – She’ll be too much for you, I think.” Roy tried not to be offended at the sentiment, after all Alex was only trying to look out for him. And Olivier was kind of, well… a bit of a handful, Roy had no doubt about that one. But still.

From then on, she was a challenge.

*

The first time he asked her out, Roy foolishly brought only his looks and his cleverness. “Visiting from your transfer to the North? It must be chilly up there; can I perhaps help warm you up?” “Wow, that sword is really impressive. Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” So on.

Needless to say, she was not impressed (and, really, Roy had to admit it wasn’t his best effort, but he didn’t really know her that well, so it was excusable). She’d thrown him out on his ass, told him off in front of both her team and his (though not lengthily enough for them to know what he was in trouble for), and told him he was severely lacking.

The second time, he tried a smoother angle. He laid on the charm and romance much thicker (more compliments, less innuendo). He offered to walk her back to the dorm she was temporarily staying in, and did anyway when she said no.

He asked her for coffee, she declined icily. He’d remarked how similar her tone was to her post, and he applauded himself when she smirked a little and finally glanced at him – a once over out of the corner of her eye. Those eyes were very, very beautiful, like the sky in a bright sun, and he told her so. She slammed her door in his face, after the parting shot that he should have his IQ checked because it was not quite what he thought it.

The third time, he came with better ammunition. Flowers, he’d failed to glean her favorite from Alex, who still insisted on telling him he was in over his head, so he’d settled for roses the same pure blue as her eyes. They were ridiculously rare and even more ridiculously expensive. Also, the color implied he’d put thought into them. Women appreciated those things.

Olivier had taken the bouquet from him and smiled. She delicately plucked one rose from among its fellows and held it up separately. Roy was proud of himself – for just one glorious second – before she ruthlessly crushed the innocent flower in her hand, still smiling. Slowly, and with pointed deliberateness, she dropped the bouquet and with the fatal weapon of her military-issue boot, brutally murdered each rose one by one.

Next, Roy brought chocolates. Chocolates with all sorts of interesting insides, flavored chocolates, white chocolate, bitter dark chocolate, every chocolate he could find. She took the chocolates, ate one or two, then threw them on the ground in such a way that they scattered in a million directions. She then told him that he was a pansy, a man not befitting his rank or prestige. And also that he had better clean all those chocolates off of her doorstep – if one got on her shoe tomorrow morning, she was going to see to it that he was court marshaled.

Refusing to give up, Roy asked her out for dinner the next time he saw her on base. She said yes, on the condition that she could eat every last penny away, and he hesitated knowing she probably wasn’t joking. She told him to grow a pair. With a regretful sigh, Roy decided maybe it was time to give it a rest, for now at least. He wasn’t getting anywhere.

Their next meeting was in Roy’s own office. Olivier was trying (unsuccessfully, Roy proudly and with relief, noted) to get Second Lieutenant Hawkeye to transfer to her command. Roy leaned on the doorframe of his office and nodded respectfully at her and smiled softly, letting her in on his defeat (and hoping that she didn’t notice he still checked her out anyway). It was then that he realized – once you start something with Olivier Armstrong, it’s not over until one or both of you is dead. Also, that you can’t do something without her noticing.

Olivier stalked over to him, pulled him out of the doorway, and pressed him flat against the wall next to it.

“I outrank you,” she hissed in his ear, and – he shivered. She made him shiver. That never happened, not anymore. “That wouldn’t change in the bedroom.” She dragged the tip of her tongue slowly across and up the lobe of his ear. Roy tried unsuccessfully to curb his triumphant smirk as his heart picked up several beats in speed at her attentions. “Can you handle that?”

“Certainly,” Roy purred, adding cheekily, “Sir.” Olivier smirked, just as triumphant as he, and let go to step back.

“Rendezvous at 2000, Major. Don’t be late.” Her smirk grew. “Even if they know it was me, they’ll never be able to prove it.”

Her vague threat made Roy’s blood heat, and he mentally chided himself for being so easy. Happily, his paperwork avoidance method for the rest of the afternoon was thinking about that evening.

*

Roy showed at Olivier’s borrowed dorm at precisely 8:05. He was confident, collected, full of charm, smirk in place, fashionably late. He had flowers again, and chocolate, and he was cheerfully humming, glad he’d finally accomplished his goal.

See, the truth was, Roy didn’t really know what he was getting into, even after being so bluntly told. So when he rang the doorbell and Olivier let him in, he was surprised (a little) when she took his flowers and chocolate and threw them away and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragging him behind her into the second of only two rooms.

The room held a bed, and that was all Roy managed to take in before Olivier had slung him onto it, stronger than he’d imagined her, though he probably should’ve guessed. Olivier pressed Roy’s shoulders roughly down so he was flat on the bed, save for his legs hanging over the end. Climbing on top of him, she loomed dangerously above, glaring.

“Disobeying a direct order, Major?” She straddled his chest and sat on him. “Soldiers get punished for that.” She tore open his shirt – a light blue button down he favored for semi-casual events; he was going to miss it.

Gleefully – and still not quite grasping the situation – Roy reached up to Olivier’s waist, slipping his hands underneath the hem of her uniform undershirt to begin de-clothing her in return. He was already getting an almost eyeful – the angle he was at made Olivier’s breasts nearly obscure her face. The shadows outlining them underneath supplied Roy’s imagination with precise and exciting curves that he was anxious to reveal. But Olivier slapped his hands away and sat up, ending the loom and starting to tower instead.

“You’re not going to be able to keep your hands to yourself are you?” she murmured, glaring down at him disapprovingly. He quickly began to feel small and insignificant (at least most of him did, while a certain part started to feel decidedly not), and looked up at her with mild apprehension.

Slowly but forcefully, Olivier undid and pulled off Roy’s belt, wrapped it around one hand and yanked on it with the other. She smirked with satisfaction, apparently finding it to her liking, and peered down at Roy again. Before he could blink she had the belt hooked around his neck, pulling him toward the front end of the bed.

Roy scrambled backwards to avoid being choked, too surprised (and now unsure and not a little nervous, though he’d never admit that) to hide the ~~panicked~~ shocked expression on his face. When he bumped into the headboard, Olivier pushed on his shoulder hard with her belt-less hand so that the bedposts dug into his back, the very breasts Roy had been admiring now pressing teasingly into his chest, making his bare skin tingle.

“With steel-plated bravery like that,” Olivier purred sarcastically into his ear, which also tingled. “You’re hardly worth the effort.” She looped his belt in a figure eight around his wrists and then buckled it around one of the posts in the headboard, and Roy was (almost) ashamed to realize he was practically panting. Since when had he ever found these sorts of things appealing?

Olivier straddled him again, this time placing herself over his hips. The curve of his body held her teasingly against him in all the best places, and if he wasn’t panting before, he was now. Olivier smirked, her eyes laughing at him, and as his own traveled up her body – dips and curves visible now that you could never glimpse in the military uniform – his mouth went dry.

Unfurling upward like a cobra, her hips rolling just barely, stomach taught and flat, ribs poking out because of the way she stretched her arms over her head, Olivier peeled her shirt slowly upward and off. Her bra was all lace – which shocked Roy to no end, though he wisely refrained from comment. It was either black or brown (hard to tell with all the skin showing through), patterned with butterflies.

Roy’s blood quickly gave up on his brain, faster than it usually happened. It was odd. He could feel the heat spreading out from between his legs over his thighs, and it made the rest of him feel cold and tingly. He hadn’t been this inescapably, irrevocably, _addictively_ turned on since was a teenager.

Olivier laughed out loud this time, and lifted herself up to undo Roy’s pants. Her knees squeezed at his hips, and he took the reminder of her legs to examine – and approve of – her thighs. Even through the military pants she was still wearing they were admirable, and though Roy had already known that, a close up inspection was making all the difference.

Olivier pulled Roy’s pants down so slowly he whined. He didn’t even try to struggle in his bonds – not because he knew it was futile, but because his brain no longer recognized it as an option. Then again, Roy’s brain was no longer recognizing much of anything, except for the beautiful woman on top of him and the need she was inspiring between the legs she kneeled over.

Olivier slithered down Roy’s body, dragging his pants and underwear with her, every bit as snake-like as she’d started. Her breasts trailed across his chest and stomach and his muscles twitched happily. When he was completely naked, Olivier crawled back up, more cat-like now than snake, but both were sexy enough to make Roy forget what the fuck words were for and just stare at her and the depressingly little of her pale skin available to him.

At waist-level Olivier nipped at Roy’s navel, running her tongue around it and down just enough to make Roy “ah!”. She licked down his happy trail, shiny bright pink lips and red tongue a sharp contrast to his white skin and black hair. Those lips and the teeth they covered closed slowly over a few strands and pulled. Another “ah!” and a whole lot of squirming, and then Olivier was repeating the process on Roy’s nipples, deliberately letting the rough material of her uniform pants scrape against his cock.

Olivier rose again, once more straddling his chest, and slid a threatening hand over his collar bone and up his neck. A rush of adrenaline joined the fray and made Roy’s head spin, but it didn’t keep him from admiring the sight she provided. He watched her lightly defined abs ripple as she leaned down, hand – and those _nails_ – still at his throat. Dizzily, he blinked up at the ceiling as Olivier ran her teeth along his vulnerable jugular, with canines he’d never expect to find on a human. But then again, Roy wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised to discover Olivier was a carnivore.

Olivier’s long sheet of blonde hair blocked Roy’s view of the cheap white plaster above him, but he didn’t mind in the least, turning his face into her neck instead. His lips only managed to brush her, when she abruptly got up from the bed. She stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips, military pants slung much lower than was regulation, and otherwise naked but for her bra. Her nipples poked through, and Roy had trouble focusing on what she was saying when she spoke.

“Did you have permission to do that, Major?” she demanded. Roy wordlessly shook his head. Olivier’s glare hardened. “Answer the question.”

“No,” said Roy, confused at her insistence. Apparently, that was not the proper response, as Olivier – while undoing her pants – clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“What is the proper way to address a superior officer, Major?” Those thighs, pale and smooth and strong like the rest of her, were emerging from the confines of the heavy blue uniform. Olivier’s panties matched her bra, teasing stripes and spots of skin peeking out from behind dark lace. “I could always get off without you,” she threatened as her pants fell to the floor with a soft _whump_. Roy quickly put his eyes back to her face and thought hard. What was the question? Oh, right.

“Sir?”

“Exactly.” Olivier crawled back onto the bed, bending over him on all fours now. “So you should be addressing me that way –” Olivier slid one leg slowly up Roy’s thigh, and her skin was so soft and smooth, he wondered if she _was_ human. “– should you not?” Her leg reached its target and Roy purred, a low rumbling almost-moan deep in his chest.

“Yes,” he gasped, not really answering her question, but that was as she’d intended it.

“Good,” she murmured in his ear, and leaned forward. Her leg pressed firmly into his crotch and he arched up into it, closing his eyes and licking his lips. Olivier trailed her deadly hands from his elbows down his arms, her nails leaving little trails of feeling that lasted after her fingers had passed. At his underarms, she paused to pull his hair again and then continued down his sides, clawing gently at each rib.

“Now –” Her tongue flicked out to torment his ear for a second or two and Roy squirmed, his hips pushing into her leg to enjoy the jumps and jolts of pleasure it caused to dance up and down his spine. “– you’ve fucked up three times now, and I’ve let you off scott-free. Next time, I’ll have no choice but to punish you. Normally, I’m not so lenient.”

Suddenly, Olivier’s nails dug hard into the unprotected flesh of his side below his ribs. It didn’t hurt in a bad way, but it was the threat of worse, and Roy held his breath.

“Stay still,” Olivier commanded. It would have been snapped had it not been so low and soft. With her nails still at his vulnerable belly, Roy forced himself to obey as she slowly began to move her leg.

Roy took a sharp breath, closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He bit his lip and felt his fists clench of their own accord. He didn’t move otherwise. Olivier’s sultry chuckle was as intimidating as it was sexy, and it was beginning to seem like everything about her was that way. Olivier moved in all the right ways to send hot lances of pleasure from between Roy’s legs straight up his spine to his brain, with no pit stops in between.

Olivier flattened herself against him, warm and soft, those breasts pressing down into Roy’s chest again. He opened his eyes again to watch as she bent her arms behind her and unhooked her bra. Contorting artistically, she slid the black-brown lace off and onto the floor, all the while still pressed against him and not sitting up for a second. She grinned wolfishly at him when he pouted, wanting to fully view her naked chest.

Apparently, Olivier was in a giving mood, as she slithered up Roy’s body until she was once again straddling his chest and placed one of her breasts within mouth’s reach. Greedily, Roy ran his tongue over every expanse of skin he could reach, pausing often to suck and nip at her nipple. She hummed a quiet approval when he bit her gently.

Olivier pulled away to sit up, and Roy admired the sight. Her breasts were round and full, bigger than the women he was usually interested in, one slightly rosier than the other from the attention he’d given it. The fall of her hair, always over one eye, led inevitably from her face downward, and now it accented the contrast between pale and milky next to a rosy luscious pink.

Pressing now against his side, Olivier finally reached down to touch him, simultaneously biting and licking at his neck, ear, and shoulder. Roy moaned and his hips arched up just once before the threat of Olivier’s nails reintroduced itself. Roy squeezed his eyes shut hard, bit his lip harder, and stilled.

Olivier worked Roy’s shaft at a slow and steady pace, not speeding up no matter what kind of sound he made at her. Just when he’d given up with biting his lip and was letting out whatever noise his brain could come up with through an open mouth, unable to stop the little, incomplete jerks of his hips into Olivier’s hand, she stopped.

“Oliv–” Roy whined, but she put a finger over his mouth, looming over him with one knee on either side of his hips and peeling her panties off with one hand. She waited expectantly with that finger pressed against his lips as she settled herself on his hips, so close to where he so desperately wanted her to be but not quite there.

“Ah-ah,” she said at him, applying more pressure to that finger and raising an eyebrow at him. Finally, Roy caught on. Hesitantly, he murmured, “…Sir.”

“Yes?” Olivier prompted, her finger leaving his mouth so that it could trail down his throat to his chest. Then she waited.

Roy was not in the habit of begging anyone for anything. He was used to being the one in power. He chewed on his tongue. …He could feel her heat, so close to his throbbing cock. He was aching with need after all of that teasing. She had him tied up, and besides he’d already called her _sir_ anyway.

“Please,” he whispered. Olivier smirked, and he saw the same triumph in it that had been there in the office before this started.

“Please…?” Another prompt, and Roy trembled, desperate.

“Please, Sir.”

“Very good,” Olivier praised, and slid down and over and he was inside her, and honestly if she expected him to stay still for that it was her own problem. Roy vaguely registered that he cried out, but he was mostly focused on the hot, wet, tightness that had taken over everything, and the strain in his shoulders as he pulled involuntarily at his bindings in order to thrust harder up into her. He was aware of only how she was biting him, licking him, moving moving moving, so _good_.

When his orgasm hit, Roy lost his capability for sight, white-hot pleasure flashing behind his eyes just like it did everywhere else. He was lucky enough to regain that particular skill in time to see Olivier, still on top of him, finishing herself off, head tipped back, blonde hair spilling down both her front and back, breasts sticking proudly out, hands between her legs.

When she was finished, she laughed breathily in Roy’s ear as she undid his belt from the headboard, telling him sexily, “Congratulations.”

And then she was throwing his clothes at him and pushing him toward the door before he managed to get them all on.

*

When he met the Major-General in Central, Roy managed to hold himself back for a pathetically short amount of time, biting his tongue hard every second of it, before asking her to dinner.

What did it matter, after all? He already called her _sir_ …

**Author's Note:**

> So, was it good for you too?
> 
> look me up on [tumblr](http://redblooded-disadvantage.tumblr.com/) for stale meta n fresh memes


End file.
